


The Poetry of Flowers

by Lady_of_Inklings



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-02
Updated: 2018-03-02
Packaged: 2019-03-25 21:01:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13842954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_of_Inklings/pseuds/Lady_of_Inklings
Summary: Yuri Plisetsky never had time to reminisce about his past between his new responsibilities and training. The only time he ever did think about his life before the pristine walls of the palace was when he slept at night or in the quiet moments in between.Sometimes when he couldn't sleep, he stared up at the ceiling wondering about his grandfather and if he felt masochistic--his mother.





	The Poetry of Flowers

Yuri Plisetsky never had time to reminisce about his past between his new responsibilities and training. The only time he ever did think about his life before the pristine walls of the palace was when he slept at night or in the quiet moments in between. 

Sometimes when he couldn't sleep, he stared up at the ceiling wondering about his grandfather and if he felt masochistic--his mother. 

He remembered the day his mother had left him and his grandfather behind, there was no letter but in her last (and possibly most heartbreaking) act she left her only son a present before the shadows and stars of the night whisked her away. There was always this raw, gaping hole in his chest when he thought of her.

On Yuri's fifth birthday, he had awoken to a warm ball of fluff that had curled next to him. The kitten was an intriguing mess of white and black fluff that stared back at him with mesmerizing blue eyes. It was the last gift his mother had given him before leaving him and his grandfather behind. He had hated her but he was only a little boy, he didn't understand why his mother had left him only that she was gone and that left a gaping hole in his hear that the small kitten on his pillow could fill. 

His mama was smart and beautiful, with the same golden hair and blue-green eyes. Yuri didn't take much after his father, something he would be grateful years down the road. There was a time where he would close his eyes and try to remember her face which faded the older he got, all he could recall of her was the stripped carnation that decorated her slender neck like a wound and a hint of ash that clung to her skin regardless of the perfume she put on. His mother was gone, it took him time to accept that but the anger that brimmed under his skin never ceased. 

When he turned seven, he met his cousin for the first time. Everything about the older boy made Yuri take a step back and glare at him; his clothes were too nice, he smiled carelessly, his hair was the most unusual shade of silver, and his eyes were an impossible shade of blue that put the sky to shame. He looked like an ethereal fae that had stepped out of the very pages of his storybook, long pretty hair so carefully braided by skilful hands and skin that was pale a snow. 

"Who are you?" Yuri asked the boy in a heavy fur-lined coat. He ignored the stern looks his grandfather gave him but Yuri didn't care. He was an outsider and outsiders caused trouble. The small run down manor he lived in was near a peaceful and quiet village located deep in the countryside. He liked it here and was naturally wary of people who came through--especially people who had come through town on a white horse with a small troop of Palace Guards that were camping outside. They may have been minor nobility but that didn't mean that they had to kiss the boot of some pompous happy-go-lucky aristocrat.

Viktor laughed, it was crispt and airy. Much too carefree.

"My name is Prince Viktor," He said. Yuri's eyes widened earning a chuckle from Viktor. "But you may call me _cousin_." 

Yuri had learned that Viktor was like moss on a window panel, he refused to let go. He stayed for the entire summer, entranced by the countryside. Viktor dragged the young Yuri out of his room (and out of his books) to take him riding, hunting, and a variety of different and strange activities that only made him roll his eyes when Viktor expressed his fascination about the simplest of things. 

"Yura!?" He winced at the nickname. Viktor--or Vitya as he insisted to be called--pointed at the patch of flowers that had sprung up on the side of the road. "What's that?"

"Wildflowers." Yuri replied in a deadpan.

"Oh! Yura! This tastes amazing." Viktor cried one afternoon as he bit into the still warm loaf of bread and meat. "Vkusno!"

"It's piroshki."

"Tell me more about this, Yura!" Viktor had dragged him out hiking, determined to pull Yuri away from what he described as the stuffy and cramped house. Well, excuse him! That was _his_ stuffy and cramped house! If he didn't like then he should've stayed in the town in or in the mayor's manor just south of his village.

"It's waterfall, Viktor." 

The Palace Guards were annoying in their own way too, especially the red-headed one that liked to tease Yuri. Sometimes Viktor would join in and Yuri regretted the fact that they were related--it had to be some sort of mistake but his grandfather, with an amused glint in his eyes, disagreed. He even gave Yuri the family book to prove that his mother had married the former king, Anton Nikiforov, his father.

"Does that make me a prince, Vitya?" Yuri had asked Viktor on a warm summers night as he laid in front of the fireplace. Viktor didn't respond, his usual cheerful demeanour had vanished only leaving a haunting look in his eye.

"Yes," Viktor had eventually responded. "But unofficially." 

Yuri had no idea what that meant, he ignored the ghostly shivered that brushed down his spine at Viktor's words.

Viktor left as soon as the first leaf of summer fell, giving way to the harvest season. Yuri felt odd as he saw his cousin mount his horse and ride west towards the capital. It was something akin to sadness but he stopped, remembering this wasn't the first time that someone had left him. Viktor would be back in the capital surrounded by all of his friends and he would easily forget about Yuri. His promise was empty, he wouldn't write to Yuri. 

At least that was what h assumed till a present had arrived three days later along with a small note that read; Write soon!

When Yuri turned nine, his grandfather collapsed on the porch. 

The village doctor had said it was due to his heart, he recommended that Nikolai take proper bedrest ad let others take over his work. Yuri knew that it was impossible. They may have been nobility but all they had was this small manner that he saw much better days and a few tiny plots of land that they had painstakingly cultivated--it was the only source of income that they had and with the meagre earnings that they had, it wouldn't be feasible to hire anybody to help them. 

He dared not mention the situation to Viktor in their weekly letters, he knew that the older boy cared too much for him and that was the exact reason he omitted it. But that didn't matter, he should've known that Viktor had people keeping an eye on him. 

A month later Viktor arrived at the manor with the same troop of Palace Guards. He stayed for a good two months, overseeing the land and hiring new hands to assist with planting and cultivating the last as Yuri stayed close to his grandfather. Yuri was grateful for the help but he didn't like that he was in Viktor's debt--it didn't sit well with him. Viktor may have been his cousin but he had barely known him a year. 

"Yura," Nikolai grabbed his hand one night, the pale light of the bedside lamp making his wedding band glint. "How long will you waste your life away on an old man like me?"

"You're tired," Yuri said. "Go back to sleep." 

"Listen to me, Yura," he said. "I want you to have a better life than this rickety manor and these barren lands. You should go with Viktor to the Capital, he can help you there and give you a future that I couldn't give you."

"No."

He didn't want to think about this now. 

Yuri reminded himself that the people he cared for the most would always leave him--his grandfather wasn't an exception. No matter how much Yuri wished that he had been blessed with a brand of magic other than fire.

"Yura--"

"No!" Yuri growled. Angry, hot tears streamed from his eyes as flames flickered lightly at the tips of his finger as he felt that familiar sense of anger boil over from his soul and through the ducts in his eye. "Are you really asking me to leave?! You're all I have left." 

"That's not true, Yura." He felt the calloused hand of his grandfather touch his cheek, his skin felt so cold to him. He jerked his chin up, gesturing to the blue iris that was embedded on his side, something he never really cared about. It was just a mark, nothing more. "You will never truly be alone. Have hope and keep faith, Kotek." 

When Yuri turned eleven, his world changed and he arrived at the gates of the palace with nothing more than a trunk of his belonging and Potya. His grandfather hadn't been able to see him off at the train station due to his bad back, he had made the journey alone and uncertain about his future. 

He didn't want to celebrate his birthday that year, there was nothing to celebrate. He hated everything here. He hated how others talked behind his back and how the other children laughed at him. The bed he slept in was too soft, the maids that scurried after him were annoying, the food was too much. Everything here was too much. He hated it. 

The only thing that made his life bearable was his family. His aunt and uncle were kind to him, his aunt let him sit with her during her afternoon meeting during tea and his uncle took Yuri horse riding. Viktor was delighted to have Yuri with him in the palace, he treated him like a little brother. Viktor protected him, he helped him learn how to fight, he taught Yuri how the court worked. Perhaps his grandfather was right, maybe he wasn't alone. 

When Yuri turned thirteen, he saw Viktor fall in love and he felt the soul marks on his flank burn. 

He pushed the feeling down as Viktor was drawn away by princely duties and other distractions. It hurt but he ignored it, it wasn't the first time somebody left him. He told himself that he was being childish, Yuri knew better. 

Yuri was used to loneliness. 

When Yuri turned fifteen, he was sick and tired and in serious trouble with his family. 

Viktor sat across from him, staring off into the distance with a look in his eyes that looked hauntingly similar to his. Calabria was far behind him, his heart still there. They would be arriving at Kievren's borders soon and he wasn't looking forward to seeing his aunt or uncle. They would most likely make sure that Yuri never stepped foot outside of palace until he was at least fifty. He felt a little guilty about his actions--just a little-- but he didn't regret it. 

"Blyad!" Viktor exclaimed causing Yuri to jump. 

"What the fuck, Vik--?!" 

"Yura," he said. His eyes turned away from the countryside and to Yuri. There was a smile on his face. "I can't believe I forgot! Happy Birthday!" 

"Ah," He said, leaning back again his seat. In the hectic turn of the events with him running away and then him getting sick, he hadn't had time to "What a lukewarm response." "I forgot about that. I'm fifteen now." 

"How do you feel?" His cousin asked. 

Yuri thought about it. "Different." 

"Really?" He looked tired but happy. Just a hint of mischief in his blue eyes. "How so?" 

"Yeah." He chuckled. "I'm not alone. I feel...." He struggled to find the word. He felt happy, but not complete--just content. He couldn't find the word for this feeling, but that didn't matter. He looked away and smiled. He didn't feel alone.

**Author's Note:**

> Just in time for Yuri's birthday!


End file.
